So, there was obviously no late-night, drunken blogging last night. Truly, we would have, but we felt like such losers we had to come home and drink more before stuffing our faces with PB&J sandwiches and Easy Mac. Oh, and fruit snacks.
After several hours of attempting to pre-drink (Abbie barely drank and Mara was getting a bit annoyed with my lack of drunken behavior) we headed out to swanky bar central, The Plaza. After hearing Abbie bitch the whole way because her feet hurt, we stopped at a certain swanky bar with a swanky Red Room where we went to order swanky drinks. $20 freaking dollars!!!! Love of GOD!!!
At this bar, the long held mystery of woman was finally revealed. Though when boys are caught staring at us and trying to pick us up, we get extremely pissed, we get much more irritated when we are not picked up. AT ALL. NOT. BY. ONE. FUCKING. GUY.
And it’s not that we are looking to pick up guys (Luke and Trent, don’t fret), but damnit, if I’m going to get all pimped out for a night of swanky barness, there better be some glancing in my direction. At the end of the night, we finally realized we were either the biggest lame-o’s on the planet (or quite possibly, the universe) or we are just so fucking hot and gorgeous and awsome and funny and exciting and intriguing that we are unapproachable. I’m going with option number 2. Because I am that vain.